


as we gaze skyward

by goesonfordaes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, i tagged character death but dont worry, just an excuse to write a space au with lounge singer baekhyun, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goesonfordaes/pseuds/goesonfordaes
Summary: in the lounge of a run down lunar colony, amid smoke and dim lights and crushed dreams, Baekhyun finds a light





	as we gaze skyward

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the arctic monkeys for their last album- I literally built the entire concept of this fic around it. this is just horribly indulgent baekchen space aesthetic pretentious stuff masquerading as a fic, so you'll have to forgive me. 
> 
> thank you to cat and julia for listening to my rambling and putting up with me and being so supportive while I finished this, and mer for ripping apart my grammar

_New Moon_

Baekhyun is weary. Singing for others just doesn’t bring him the same pleasure it used to-there’s a falseness to his shimmer now, cracks if people cared enough to look closely. Maybe that’s why he’d run away, grabbed a suitcase and filled it with whatever wasn’t dirty, and started off across the universe. Ending up in this run down lunar colony in a run down hotel and casino, crooning for whoever would listen, just an elevator ride away from the place he had escaped years ago.

Baekhyun had always wanted to escape the confines of Earth’s atmosphere ever since he was a child. His eyes would track the glimmering shuttles as they soared away, heading for the moon or Mars, following their upward trajectory until his neck hurt from craning so far back for so long and his eyes hurt from squinting at the sky. He saved up anything and everything- spare change his parents gave him, the money he made from mowing lawns every summer, the tips from his shitty job at a local restaurant-watching as he inched ever closer to his dream. Finally, finally, finally, he had enough to make it out into space. Not far-just to Mars-but that was far enough for Baekhyun.

Mars and beyond was a whirlwind: one that started with an alien with an overly wide smile telling him “Kid, I think you’ve got what it takes to be a real star” and ending in memories colored in hazy lights and people screaming his name. It was crazy, it was wild. It was smudged eyeliner and low cut shirts, cobalt blue drinks that tasted like spring and drugs that made him feel like he was floating in a pool of twinkling stars, the sweaty rocking of bodies and a trail of hickies up his neck every other day, drinking until dawn and then waking up to the rush of people cheering his name as though he was their savior. It was crazy and wild until it wasn’t, until it began to feel like a chore, until days began to bleed together because no day stood out from within the flashing lights. Until Baekhyun found himself standing in a pit of people, together with them but not, and in a moment of clarity realized, _I don’t want this anymore._

It was a snap decision, the exact opposite of the lifelong yearning that took him away from Earth, that had him buying a one way ticket out of the Andromeda galaxy and eventually back to his native solar system. Out of money and out of ideas, he had wound up here. Reading the flickering sign that said “Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino” he thinks, _Tranquility sounds nice. Sounds like what I need._ And now he’s here, rambling his life story on a cobbled-together tune to strangers who neither listen nor care.

Casting his gaze around the dim room, he sees nameless faces and faceless people, laughing and talking and appearing totally caught up in their own worlds, until he lands on dark eyes staring steadfastly at him. Baekhyun blinks, surprised, and the man merely quirks up a corner of his mouth like he had expected this reaction. Baekhyun blinks again and the man is gone, no more than a figment of Baekhyun’s imagination.

That would’ve been the end of it, but Baekhyun swears the man appears every night from then on with a little smile to greet Baekhyun. Sometimes he’s there for a flash, like the imprint behind Baekhyun’s eyelids when a camera lens is too bright; sometimes he’s there for longer, long enough for Baekhyun to smile hesitantly back at him. It becomes kind of comforting in its own way, Baekhyun supposes. There’s someone who is still looking at him, who cares enough to pay attention, who doesn’t let him drone on and tune him out. Because as loath as Baekhyun is to admit it now, there’s still a part of him that thrives off of the attention of others. It’s what makes him bolder over time, winking whenever he catches the man’s eye, throwing pointed remarks about patrons into his songs and watching the man laugh, waving at him on the nights when Baekhyun takes the stage and the man is already there.

There’s a part of Baekhyun that wishes the man would stay and be more than a flash of light in Baekhyun’s otherwise dreary life. There’s another part that thinks it’s better for it to be no more than lighthearted, meaningless interactions. That part doesn’t explain why Baekhyun’s heart jumps in his chest whenever the man appears, or why his smile makes Baekhyun instinctively smile back.

Then one night it’s all decided for him, when Baekhyun winks at the man and he winks back, and Baekhyun chalks it up as another interaction among countless others. Except this time when he lets his eyes flicker towards the man’s table in the vain hope that he’s still there, Baekhyun finds that today it’s not a vain hope, and the man is still staring at him, ever present smile on his face. He keeps darting glances at the man throughout his performance, something he can’t put a name to beginning to grow inside his chest.

His set ends to scattered, distracted applause and Baekhyun bows a few times before coming off the stage. Deliberately, he heads in the direction of the man’s table, disguising his interest as carelessness. He tries not to sneak a glance at the man, but the urge is too strong and Baekhyun’s never been good at ignoring his impulses. He’s watching Baekhyun carefully, a wry, expectant smile on his face. Baekhyun wanders closer until he passes by the man’s table, the fabric of his jacket practically brushing the man’s arm.

“You were wonderful,” the man says, and Baekhyun tries to ignore the sense of satisfaction he gets from that as he stops in his tracks and turns, pretending he hadn’t just been wishing for the man to say just that. The glint in the man’s eyes makes Baekhyun think he knows anyways.

“Aren’t I wonderful every night?” Baekhyun teases, leaning up against the man’s booth and grinning down at him.

“Well, yes,” the man admits unabashedly. “But this time I had the pleasure of seeing your entire set.”

His set isn’t really anything at all, and they both know it, but his compliment still makes Baekhyun glow. “What persuaded you to stick around tonight?” Baekhyun questions, and maybe he’s fishing for a certain answer and maybe he’s not.

“Oh, you know,” the man hums, “I had a little extra time on my hands.” His eyes sparkle with mirth like he’s just made a joke. Baekhyun doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t really mind.

Baekhyun puts on his best smile, sticking out a hand as he introduces himself. “I’m Baekhyun, by the way.”

The man looks at his hand carefully, before clasping it. “I know,” he says simply. “I’ve kept an eye on you for a while.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. It’s not unusual for people to recognize him, but it’s certainly rare out here, in the empty areas far from the bustle of deep space. “A fan?”

The man smiles, something hidden in the curls of his lips. “You could say that.” A pause, a flash of white teeth. “Silver hair looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun answers, preening, dropping into the seat next to the man. Another pause. “You’re not curious to know what I’m doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Something odd passes across the man’s expression. “Not particularly,” the man says after a moment, taking a sip of his drink. “Should I be?”

Baekhyun likes that answer. It’s different. “Not at all. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to not be interested in me whatsoever.”

The man laughs at that. “Well, that’s going to be rather difficult. You’ve made it hard not to be.”

“Another victim of my charm?” Baekhyun teases.

The man looks askance at Baekhyun. “Of course. How could I not be?”

The forwardness of his response stuns Baekhyun for a second, his mind scrambling for a response.

“As lovely as this conversation is, I’m afraid I must be going,” the man sighs, checking his wristwatch. He slides out of the booth with catlike grace, straightening his suit. “Come find me some time,” he says, winking as he puts on his fedora.

“I will if I can put a name to your face,” Baekhyun says boldly, regaining the power of speech.

The man blinks, surprised, and it’s the first time Baekhyun has seen him look anything less than completely in control. “It’s Jongdae,” he says, gaze far away, as if he was remembering something.

“Well, Jongdae, I’ll make sure to see you again,” Baekhyun promises, and Jongdae smiles, small and soft and fond. A smile just for Baekhyun, that makes something twist in his stomach.

“I’m sure you will,” he responds, grinning, before turning and vanishing into the smoke of the lounge, and for a moment Baekhyun thinks he sees silver-white light trailing behind him.

  
  
_Waxing Crescent_

The problem is, Jongdae is much harder to find than Baekhyun himself is. Baekhyun sings at the lounge every night, for goodness’ sake. It’s not like he’s mysterious or anything. But the seat where Jongdae always sits remains stubbornly empty, taunting Baekhyun. It’s like another round of the game they played that started when Baekhyun first locked eyes with Jongdae. He wonders if it’ll always be like this, the two of them dancing around each other like a binary orbit, circling but never coming close.

Frustration even drives Baekhyun to venture out of the smoke and dim lighting of the lounge into the smog and eye-watering neon lights of Selenium, criss-crossing the city in the hopes of spotting even a hint of Jongdae’s smile or a whisper of his laughter. Sometimes Baekhyun swears when he looks hard enough that he sees a shimmer of silver light out of the corner of his eye and the ghost of that smile Jongdae had left him, but Jongdae himself remains maddeningly elusive.

And of course, just when Baekhyun isn’t looking for Jongdae, he pops up. It’s on one of those particularly miserable grey days, when the wind whips around strongly enough that Baekhyun has trouble keeping his balance and a persistent drizzle seeps through his coat. A diner casts a weak glow, and he glances at it, considering whether it’s worth his money to get a subpar meal and wait out the storm.

A strong gust of wind sends him stumbling towards the door, and that decides it. The door chimes as he enters, fluorescent lights shining harshly on the cheap vinyl of the seats. It’s not a bad place, he supposes. It looks like every other diner Baekhyun’s been in, Earth and beyond. There’s a comforting uniformity to them. He sits down, the seat squeaking, and orders coffee (which he’s sure will be bad). Staring out the window, he tries to gauge how long it’ll take for the wind to die down.

The coffee is slid in front of him and Baekhyun turns to thank the waiter, only to be met with Jongdae’s smiling face. He knows he should be upset, but something about the twinkle in Jongdae’s eyes makes his anger dissipate.

“Got a thing for rundown places?” Baekhyun jokes as a greeting, and Jongdae laughs.

“I suppose you could say that.” Jongdae slides into the seat across from Baekhyun without invitation, letting their legs tangle together under the table. Baekhyun doesn’t mind.

Jongdae looks the same as ever, dark hair striking against his pale skin, and Baekhyun allows himself to steal glances from underneath his lashes. Jongdae catches him, and Baekhyun flushes, though not without noticing the lilac blush that spreads across Jongdae’s cheeks and crawls down his neck to disappear into his shirt.

“What brings you here?” Baekhyun asks, fiddling his the coffee spoon, suddenly feeling as though his collar is too tight.

Jongdae didn’t order anything, but somehow he’s stirring coffee, the dark liquid nearly cream with the amount of milk he’s put in it. “Oh, you know. Just wandering about.”

“Just got off of work?” Baekhyun guesses, and Jongdae smiles.

“Something like that,” he says, laughter in his eyes. Baekhyun is starting to feel like he’s missing something. “But more importantly, what brings you here, Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks, and something about the edge of his smile turns sharp.

Baekhyun ignores the way unease begins to creep and the sweating of his palms. “Just waiting out the storm.”

“No, I mean, what brings you to the moon?” Jongdae’s taking a sip of his drink, but his eyes flicker inquisitively over the rim of the mug. “It’s quite far from your usual haunts, wouldn’t you say?”

Jongdae’s eyes look deep and dark all of the sudden, and Baekhyun gets the eerie sense that Jongdae already knows too much about him. “Just wanted a change of scenery,” Baekhyun settles on saying, shrugging as he clutches his coffee mug like a lifeline. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

Jongdae snickers, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m sure you did.” His tone is light, breezy, a complete contrast to the heaviness of his words and the way they sit like a rock in the pit of Baekhyun’s stomach. “But that’s not really why you’re here, is it? The little boy who stared at the sky wouldn’t return so easily, not after all that hoping and dreaming and longing and scrounging and saving.”

“How would you know?” Baekhyun says, mouth fumbling with the words as he fumbles his mug, the ceramic clattering. Jongdae’s comment hits too close to a person he thought he’d long buried-the little boy with the big eyes who used to look up at the heavens and identify each star in the sky, promising himself he’d make it out there one day.

“Don’t you recognize me, Baekhyun?” Jongdae’s smile turns sly as he takes a sip of his coffee, lips curling upwards. “You did stare at me for nineteen years of your life. I thought you’d recognize an old friend.”

That stops the runaway train of Baekhyun’s thoughts, making him _look_ at Jongdae for the first time, eyes carefully traveling his form. The midnight blue hair so dark it’s almost black except when the light shines on it. The nearly imperceptible silver glow he exudes and the shimmer on his skin. The stars in his eyes and the twin iridescent crescent moons glimmering on the tops of his cheekbones. An idea starts forming in Baekhyun’s mind, too absurd to be true, but he finds himself whispering anyway, “The Moon?”

The Moon hums, pleased. “You always were a smart one.” Jongdae grins at Baekhyun affectionately, like one would a lifelong friend. “Hello, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun automatically whispers, “Hello,” mind reeling. Jongdae kicks him lightly under the table, grinning brightly.

“Come on, you didn’t think I’d notice you? Not many people look up at me with that kind of fervor anymore, especially people with souls as bright as yours.”

The Moon is a large chunk of rock 238,900 miles away from the Earth, constantly circling around it due to the Earth’s gravitational pull. The Moon is not a man with a twinkle in his eye and a smile so bright it could rival the sun, who is currently sitting across from Baekhyun with a very real leg pressed up against his own. Baekhyun makes a confused noise, and Jongdae cocks his head to the side.

“You humans are always so amusing,” he murmurs, and it should be patronizing but it’s not, not when Jongdae is looking at him so fondly. “Always dreaming, always wondering, and yet you seem so confused when what you’ve been wishing for is presented to you. Did you ever stop to think about why there are so many legends about the Man in the Moon?”

“I thought it was just a fairytale,” Baekhyun admits.

“Isn’t everything a fairytale? Once it’s passed too far from human memory to be truth but not far enough to fade away entirely?” Jongdae questions, the corner of his mouth quirked up. Baekhyun doesn’t really have a good answer to that. He hasn’t lived long enough to know.

He tells Jongdae as much, and Jongdae smiles again, but this time something bittersweet flashes in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot in your lifespan, though,” Jongdae says. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back here-you always seemed so set on leaving. Imagine my surprise when you returned.”

“You really noticed?” Baekhyun asks, and he doesn’t know why he’s so fixated on that idea. Maybe it’s because out of 7 billion people below and the billions more that have walked the Earth, Jongdae seems to act like Baekhyun is the only one that matters. Maybe it’s because Jongdae cared from the very beginning. Before Baekhyun was anybody, he _knew._ He _saw._ Something about Baekhyun drew him in before Baekhyun wore tight leather pants and electric blue contacts and changed his hair color every week. Jongdae didn’t care when Baekhyun was awkward and had acne and bleached hair that was a painful orange; didn’t care when Baekhyun was new and unformed. Baekhyun always looked up at the moon, but he never thought it would be looking back down at him with a crescent shaped smile.

Jongdae smiles again at him and there’s something in his eyes that makes Baekhyun feel incredibly warm. “Of course. I always notice you.” Jongdae glances out the window, tone mild as he notes, “Ah, the storm’s ended. I suppose that’s my cue,” as if he hadn’t said anything to Baekhyun while they were sitting here that was anything other than perfectly mundane. They could have been discussing the history of the color beige, based on Jongdae’s attitude.

Jongdae stands up, leaving money on the table to cover the meal, and this time Baekhyun notices the light that trails after him. It seems to seep into the atmosphere and make everything glow, makes this ordinary, aged diner seem charming instead of dilapidated for the briefest of moments. Baekhyun wonders how he didn’t realize sooner just how otherworldly Jongdae is.

 

_First Quarter_

After that first time, it’s almost like a barrier has been broken, and instead of being unable to find Jongdae, Baekhyun can’t help but find him everywhere. Jongdae is behind every corner on the street, grinning as he falls into step with Baekhyun, in his apartment when Baekhyun gets home, spread out on the couch, and always, always, in his seat at the lounge, staring at Baekhyun attentively with that half-smile from when Baekhyun first saw him.

It’s comfortably disconcerting, to say the least. To have an embodiment of a giant chunk of rock be walking around is odd enough, but what’s even more curious is the way Jongdae is so-well, _human._ He’s clingy, likes to wrap himself around Baekhyun whenever he can. He hums absently to himself, filling quiet rooms with the beauty of his voice. He likes spicy foods and has a habit of playing with the rings on his hand and loves the color yellow and a million other little things that make him so real. It’s enough to make Baekhyun forget, sometimes, what Jongdae really is.

Jongdae can’t exactly move in, in the sense that he leaves a toothbrush at Baekhyun’s place and his clothes scattered around, but it’s like he’s moved in in every other sense of the word. So it’s normal, now, to step out of the shower and find Jongdae waiting with a smile on his face and a towel in his hand (unlike the first time, when Baekhyun had shrieked and tripped over his own feet to the sound of Jongdae’s laughter). To come home and find Jongdae watching reruns of trashy space dramas, eating the last of Baekhyun’s popcorn. To have whatever meal he’s managed to scrounge up with Jongdae’s bright smile directed at him from across the table. To fall asleep to the sound of Jongdae’s voice, and to wake up to it too.

It’s as if they’ve known each other forever, been friends forever, and in a weird way, Baekhyun supposes they have.

“Hey,” Jongdae says, chucking a pillow at Baekhyun’s head. “Pay attention, this is the good part.” Jongdae has his feet on Baekhyun’s lap, eyes staring intently as some alien with lots of tentacles gets a grip on a screaming woman. Baekhyun squints at the screen through bleary eyes and hopes it doesn’t end in softcore tentacle porn. Jongdae’s been insistent on Baekhyun watching all manner of movies and television with him, claiming, “It’s more fun to watch it with a human and see how you react!” but Baekhyun is starting to think it’s just because Jongdae’s lonely and likes to annoy Baekhyun with his presence.

It’s a normal night in, complete with greasy take out food and the two of them spread out on the couch. Just one in a sequence of many similar nights. But it’s not the indistinguishable blur Baekhyun grew to loathe. Each night is special, each one different.

Jongdae drags Baekhyun out to night markets, convincing him with a pout to buy him random trinkets that accumulate throughout Baekhyun’s apartment-plushies, cheap bracelets, useless toys. He takes him to all manner of hole in the wall restaurants and has him try the most ridiculous looking food (Baekhyun prefers not to think about the one meal that tried to fight its way out of his throat). The winding, half-deserted streets become familiar to him, an adventure made for the two of them. Jongdae makes Baekhyun laugh until his sides hurt and smile like he hasn’t in a long time. He makes Baekhyun breathe in fresh air and feel comfortable in his own skin. A little voice in the back of his head even starts to say, _Maybe you didn’t need to run so far away. Maybe all you needed was 238,900 miles. Maybe_ this _is it._

The movie isn’t really all that good, but Jongdae looks thoroughly amused, lips curved upwards and the occasional laugh getting startled out of him. And as Baekhyun looks at the slope of his shoulders and the outline of his features in the dim light of the room, he thinks maybe the movie isn’t so bad after all.

It’s warm and Baekhyun is tired and that loop of _You were wonderful_ and _I always notice you_ that beats a steady drum in his subconscious comes to the forefront of his mind. Baekhyun’s eyes close, and in the darkness there is a familiar smile and a quiet, constant murmuring that beckons him ever onward, to talk and laugh and sing and wrap his arms around an indistinct figure.

Baekhyun wakes up to a crick in his neck and his drool on Jongdae’s shirt. Blinking, he rubs his eyes, looking up at Jongdae’s smiling face. Jongdae’s fingers are buried somewhere in his hair, and his eyes are crinkled fondly, staring down at the way Baekhyun is tucked into the crook of his arm, and Baekhyun’s remaining braincell fires into action and thinks _Shit._ Because as much as Baekhyun’s brain shorts out from the sheer power of Jongdae’s smile, a part of him had enough awareness to realize that maybe it’s not the moon that makes Baekhyun feel whole again. It’s the Moon. Baekhyun has tied himself to Jongdae, and only now when he’s so knotted up and intertwined has he realized that Jongdae didn’t make the moon feel like home- _Jongdae_ is home.

Jongdae has laced himself around Baekhyun’s ribs and up his spine and burrowed himself into Baekhyun’s brain and has a chokehold around his heart, and all of the sudden Baekhyun is painfully aware of the slamming of his heartbeat as it thunders in his chest.

Jongdae notices Baekhyun looking at him oddly, and his mouth twists downwards. “Everything alright?” he asks him, concerned.

“Everything’s fine. That was some movie, huh?” Baekhyun deflects, and Jongdae snorts.

“Like you would know. You were asleep for half of it.”

“I need my beauty sleep!” Baekhyun protests, falling into the familiar rhythm of teasing.

“Not much beauty to preserve,” Jongdae snarks, and Baekhyun whacks him on the head with a pillow. Jongdae just laughs, bright and loud, and the sound doesn’t help the churning of Baekhyun’s stomach. Jongdae has become so close to Baekhyun in such a short amount of time, and Baekhyun can’t believe he hadn’t realized friendship had become dependence. Jongdae’s slipped into the cracks in Baekhyun’s soul and filled in all the gaps, so Baekhyun doesn’t know who he’d be if Jongdae left-if he’d just collapse like a house of cards when the slightest wind blows by.

Jongdae stretches, the pop as his back cracks loud in the silent room. “What time is it?” he asks, and then answers his own question, quickly glancing at his watch. “Oh dear, I’ve stayed for far too long already. I’m sure the sun is rather confused at my refusal to leave the sky.” His lips curl up, mischievous, as if he enjoys the idea of toying around in the heavens, rather like a celestial playground. His eyes shift to look at Baekhyun, sparkling with happiness, and then Jongdae darts forwards, lips barely brushing the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth. There’s catlike satisfaction written all over his face as he draws back, standing up.

Baekhyun stares at him, dumbfounded, before shooting upwards so abruptly his vision nearly blacks out. “Baekhyun?” he can hear Jongdae ask, as if underwater, before he blinks, the world rushing back in in full sound and color.

“You should go,” Baekhyun tells him, forcing his mouth into a smile and hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace. “Don’t want to make the sun more confused than he already is.”

And Baekhyun can see the way his words chip away at something within Jongdae, the horribly human way something within him starts to crack and tear, but he can’t let himself give in, no matter how badly he wants to lunge forwards and press his lips against Jongdae’s. His hands fidget at his sides, picking at the fabric of his pants, anxiety rising in his throat as he refuses to meet Jongdae’s gaze.

Jongdae wants to say something, Baekhyun can tell, but instead he says, “Good night, Baekhyun,” voice soft, before leaving. He closes the door quietly behind him in a way that feels like defeat.

 

_Waxing Gibbous_

Jongdae clearly read something in Baekhyun’s expression that one night, because he disappears for a while. Baekhyun’s used to Jongdae flitting in and out of his life, but there’s still a weird itch under his skin that only Jongdae can soothe. It manifests itself in restless nights, in thoughts that trail off before he can finish them, in the way he’ll open his mouth to ask Jongdae a question before realizing he’s not there.

And then Jongdae appears back in his life like nothing ever happened. The transition from nothing to normal is jarring, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, but Baekhyun decides not to ask. The only time he tries, Jongdae gets this hard look in his eyes and his mouth thins into a line. “Drop it,” he had told Baekhyun, and Baekhyun did.

So things continue as they were before, except now an ever present thought of Baekhyun’s is how Jongdae’s lips would feel against his. And he hates himself for it. It sends his predictable little world rocketing off its axis and messes with the routine he’s comforted himself with. It’s stretching him thin, and Baekhyun knows it’s only a matter of time before he snaps. It’s too hard, when Jongdae acts like nothing happened and is constantly pushing into Baekhyun’s space, arms thrown around him and laugh in his ear and the constant ever-present warmth of his body pressed against Baekhyun’s. But the thing is, Jongdae is right. Everything should be fine. Yet somehow, that brush of lips, something that couldn’t even really be called a kiss, has thrown Baekhyun off balance and set him adrift. Jongdae’s always been different, Baekhyun supposes, so it’s only right that he tangles Baekhyun up in a way he’s never experienced before.

It enters his mind that perhaps it’s time to move on. Breathe new air, see new sights, meet new people. His life before ending up on the moon was all about constantly shifting-where to explore next, what the next big thing was, when would he pick up and move on to the next planet, the next city, the next location. Here, the days have crept by and Baekhyun doesn’t know where they went. He’s spent far longer on the moon than anywhere else. Maybe he’s unsettled because it’s time to move on. But deep down, when he’s laying in bed at night and staring up at the ceiling, the thought comes that perhaps he’s unsettled because he’s finally found what he’s looking for.

The snap comes one day, when Jongdae whispers fun facts about whatever movie they’re watching cheerfully in Baekhyun’s ear. Baekhyun can’t concentrate on the information because of the brush of Jongdae’s lips against the shell of his ear and his warm breath on the nape of his neck and the weight of Jongdae’s arm around his shoulders. It’s too much, like walls closing in on Baekhyun and suffocating him.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he gasps out, shaking off Jongdae’s arm, all but dashing out of the living room. His bedroom door closes with a bang behind him, Baekhyun leaning against it and letting his legs give out, sinking to the floor.

“Baekhyun?” Jongdae’s worried voice asks from the other side, and Baekhyun draws his knees up, staring emptily at the space between his feet.

How does he even begin? How does he explain the way he feels-like a wave is about to engulf him at all times, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to keep his head above water when it crashes. It’s such an enormous feeling, one he doesn’t entirely understand or even know how to put into words. It can’t easily be boiled down or distilled.

“Do you ever feel impossibly small, like a mote of dust?” he begins, trying to form words that can somehow outline his meaning.

Jongdae shifts, the floor creaking.

“Not in like the all-consuming ‘we are nothing in this great universe nothing we do matters’ sort of way. But more like...you feel small on the inside. You don’t quite know who you are, or what you want, or what you should do. People say that if you follow your dreams, you’ll find all the answers, but I haven’t found anything. I’m supposed to know things, but I just...don’t.”

“You can choose not to believe me, but I promise. I know exactly how you feel,” Jongdae murmurs, and Baekhyun wonders if he meant to say it out loud.

“But how can I believe you?” Baekhyun bursts out. “You’ve lived for eons, Jongdae. You’ve seen and heard and lived through so much. You’re as old as the earth! People used to worship you, sacrifice animals to you, shed blood in your name! What am I compared to that?” He answers his own question. “I’m nothing, Jongdae. You overwhelm me and turn me upside down and I feel so, so small next to you. Because I am.” Baekhyun digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, desperately trying to push back the tears that are forming. “I’ve wrapped myself up in you, so much so that now I’ve lost myself.”

He hears a muffled sob on the other side of the door, and realizes Jongdae is crying with him. “If you’ve stolen your identity from me, then I’ve done just the same, Baekhyun. Who do you think the moon is when there is nobody to look up? Your people gave me a name, a conscience of my own, and I love you for it. Your people have also done horrible, awful things, things that made me weep and sweep the oceans over the land, but you’re also capable of _so much more._ It’s one of the reasons why I love you. I’ve watched over you since the beginning, watched you form and stand upright and transform. But I was always _watching._ It’s so lonely, Baekhyun. You can’t imagine how lonely I’ve been. But then...there you were.”

The awe in Jongdae’s voice makes shivers go up Baekhyun’s spine, thrills him and terrifies him all at once.

“You’re so special, Baekhyun. You just radiate light in the most beautiful way. You make me feel truly human, in the best way possible, and that’s no small thing.” Jongdae’s words hang in the air, beautiful in their delicacy and the way they shimmer, Baekhyun’s for the taking. But Baekhyun allows them to fade, leaving himself with only the squeak of Jongdae’s hand hesitating on the doorknob. There’s silence, filled with Jongdae’s breathing and Baekhyun’s intense, conflicting desire that begs for Jongdae to open the door just as much as it asks him not to. Eventually, Jongdae’s shadow drifts away from the crack under the door, and Baekhyun tries to ignore the way his stomach drops.

When he finally emerges from his room, it immediately hits him. It’s so empty. Baekhyun’s not used to it anymore, not when Jongdae’s presence fills all the space Baekhyun’s can’t. He identifies the pit in his stomach. It’s doubt, and it seeps out and crowds the room and crushes Baekhyun into a corner, crying out for air.

 

_Full Moon_

The doubt only grows, no matter how hard Baekhyun tries to push it away. It’s all consuming, ever present, leaves Baekhyun staring up at his ceiling at night with questions circling in a hellish loop.

He can barely remember what it was like before Jongdae, but life has no trouble reminding him. It’s brutally boring, unending in the melancholy of routine. “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock” becomes a mantra, Baekhyun bitterly thinking _Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare eat a peach?_ He needs to go, find something new, but where is there to go? He’s on the outskirts of everything, and the only ways forward mean going back-returning to his home planet, which he swore never to do, or to the hedonistic confusion of deep space. So instead of making a choice, Baekhyun stays.

It’s like a reset button, Baekhyun ending up back where he started. Nothing changed around him, but Baekhyun is so different that he feels like a stranger, watching the world he once knew go by. Streets that were familiar have turned against him, confusing him in their insidious twists and turns, and the once comfortable anonymity of the streets is suffocatingly lonely. Other faces sit in Jongdae’s seat in the lounge, and then it’s no longer Jongdae’s spot.

He climbs up to the roof of his apartment building one night to sit and stare out at the twinkling city lights below. The wind whistles around him, catching his breath and turning it into air. Baekhyun’s chest feels tight, and as he tries to breathe all he feels is the way the air settles in his lungs, like the heavy smog of the city has seeped into his chest and blocked his throat. He tilts his head back, looking up at the distant stars. There’s no more moon to gaze at, but Baekhyun thinks it’s worth a try. Jongdae was always the one to find Baekhyun, always within easy reach and in a constant place. This time, Baekhyun doesn’t send his prayer to the moon, but he still hopes the Moon hears it.

A breeze floats by, ruffling his hair and his clothes, and Jongdae says, “I always hear you, Baekhyun.” Jongdae’s sitting on the edge of the balcony, feet dangling over the edge of the building, bittersweet smile directed towards the skyline. He turns, tilts his head and when they make eye contact it’s like a breath of fresh air, Jongdae chasing away all darkness with his presence. And just like that, the next breeze plucks his visage away, stardust spiralling. The cloud reconverges on Baekhyun’s world, twice as dark and infinitely more heavy. It wrenches Baekhyun forward, taking off after Jongdae without a second thought.

He snatches at the twinkling lights, desperately trying to collect them and hold onto them if only for a moment longer. They evade his grasping fingers, dancing out of reach. Baekhyun feels tears well up in his eyes, and tries to blink them away even as they slip down his cheeks. He crumples to sit against the wall, the brick digging into his spine as he stares up at the sky. “I know it’s selfish,” he says out loud, voice a hoarse croak in the night. “I know I’m hopelessly greedy, to ask for you like this, but I can’t help it. You’ve burrowed your way into my soul and wrapped a string around my heart and now I can’t leave you, not when that string tugs me ever onwards to find you. I’ve realized now that I didn’t wrap my identity up in you. You helped me find myself again. And yeah, I sound like a self-help book, but it’s true. You get all of my dumb jokes and laugh even if they’re not funny. My couch has a permanent indent where you sit every night when we watch movies. I’ve gotten used to the crick in my neck from falling asleep on your shoulder. I'm happy when I'm with you, Jongdae. Truly happy, something I haven't felt in a long time. You’re my other half, Jongdae.” He laughs, a nervous, awkward sound. “I’ve never been good with words, but I guess what I’m trying to say is that...”

He lets the moment hang there, achingly long and yet all too short, before he musters up the courage to say, despite the fact that his heart is in his throat, “I love you, Jongdae. I know I don’t know much, but I promise you I do know this. I’m more certain about it than anything in my life. I love you to the ends of the galaxy. I think your eyes are the brightest stars I’ve ever seen and that your smile rivals the sun. I love you like the tides love the moon and flowers love the sun. Like smog loves the cities and pirates love treasure and bats love darkness and philosophers love thinking about human existence and all other sorts of ridiculous things. You are so beautiful, Jongdae, like a supernova at that instant when all the colors swirl around and radiate into the universe. And I’m just...me.”

“Oh, Baekhyun,” he hears Jongdae sigh, and it sounds like a gust of wind. Slowly, silver white shimmering particles coalesce into his form, just as lovely as ever. “I wax and wane, Baekhyun. My light grows and shrinks through time. You’ve always been so, so bright.” He looks at Baekhyun, and right then Baekhyun thinks he knows what it feels like to be the center of someone’s universe. “You’re beautiful. You radiate light, in a way that touches everyone-it’s your own intrinsic glow, not a reflection of anyone else’s. Don’t you know?”

Baekhyun can’t answer, throat so tight he can barely force out a sound, smile so wide he thinks his face will split in half. So instead Baekhyun takes a risk, and lets himself take Jongdae’s hand, fingers tangling together. Jongdae smiles at that, eyes crinkling upwards, and squeezes Baekhyun’s hand. Jongdae’s eyes are old, dark pools Baekhyun could get lost in, but his hand is small and cool against Baekhyun’s, and it instantly grounds him. Grounds him to a new start, new opportunities. A new Baekhyun.

Baekhyun passes life with Jongdae next to him, watching the years fall away. A love story painted against a backdrop of dreamy lavender and navy, twinkling skies and the sunrise-yellow of Jongdae’s smile and the soft blue of their bedspread. And even when his hair is truly grey instead of artificially silver, Jongdae still looks at him the same exact way-like Baekhyun is the center of the universe, and all the planets and stars and even Jongdae himself revolve around him.

When Baekhyun closes his eyes one last time to blissful darkness, the last thing he sees is Jongdae’s smile, big and bright and bold as ever and so full of love Baekhyun doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it the first time he saw him. “You’ll love me forever?” he asks, voice hoarse. It’s an old question, one Baekhyun has asked and Jongdae has answered countless times.

“Of course. As long as you live and beyond, until the universe implodes on itself and I am nothing,” Jongdae replies, starlight streaking his handsome face.

Baekhyun sighs, and lets go.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

When he opens his eyes again, there’s white. White and then a dizzying swirl of colors and cool crisp air and Baekhyun sharply takes in a breath as the world focuses with startling clarity. There’s a figure before him, a figure he knows outlined in moonlight, and as Jongdae comes nearer Baekhyun thinks he finally truly understands why people fall in love with the moon. He is radiant, silver light shining brightly, brighter than Baekhyun has ever seen it. It dazzles him even when his eyes are closed, the shimmering, pure light imprinted behind his eyelids. Jongdae in all his glory is a sight to behold: the crescents on his cheeks rounded out to a full moon, iridescent strands running through his dark hair, stardust trailing behind him. It’s all Baekhyun can do to stare in shock, before Jongdae starts running towards him, mouth wide as he grins and hands outstretched to grab Baekhyun and pull him in tightly and never let him go.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae chokes out, and starlight is dripping down his cheeks even as he smiles brilliantly, breathlessly, raining kisses across Baekhyun’s face whenever he can reach, mouth finally coming to covering Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun laughs in delight, losing himself in the taste of starlight and the curve of Jongdae’s lips, as familiar as his own. He brings his hand up to brush away Jongdae’s tears, sees it glowing gold and free of the age spots and wrinkles that had marred it. He looks in confusion at Jongdae, only to find that Jongdae is looking at him proudly, shining in Baekhyun’s golden light.

“What happened? Where was I?” Baekhyun asks, and Jongdae laughs, ignoring him as he continues to shower him in kisses.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter, my star. It took you awhile to get here, and I was lonely again without you, but you’ve made it. You’ve made it home to your place in the sky.” He smiles fondly at Baekhyun, fingers tracing the smattering of stardust across his nose, and lets Baekhyun pull him in to kiss him with the fervor and heat of a thousand suns. Baekhyun fists his hands in the material of Jongdae’s shirt and tries to imprint the shape of Jongdae’s mouth and the way their bodies fit together in his memory, to bring Jongdae so close they will never be able to part again.

“I won’t let you go again,” Baekhyun gasps as Jongdae traces a path down his neck, knotting his hands in the waves of Jongdae’s hair.

“We have all the time in the world,” Jongdae says softly, and each kiss he places on Baekhyun’s body is a promise.

Baekhyun has made his place among the stars, twinkling brightly in the expanse of navy-silver-gold. And after all this time, there is still not much that he knows, but he knows that he will love Jongdae until the universe implodes on itself and they are nothing. Countless people have looked at the moon. Loved the moon. But Baekhyun finds satisfaction in the knowledge that he is the only one who will ever love the Moon, and know that the Moon loves him back.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it to the end, congrats! thank you for reading.
> 
> if anyone wants to talk about baekchen you can find me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/goesonfordaes)


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